


Inksolation 2

by notjustmom



Series: Inksolation [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelo's Restaurant (Sherlock), M/M, Ridiculous amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: A collection of stories, inspired by a prompt list written by bluebellofbakerstreet. My plan is to try to write each day through May, we'll see how it goes.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Inksolation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810603
Comments: 446
Kudos: 101





	1. Blue

He hadn’t yet dared to look long enough to determine the colour of his eyes. The lights in the lab had made it harder to tell in any case, and he was too flustered in the flat - then far too busy at the crime scene to study him properly. It wasn’t until they were sitting at Angelo’s waiting for a serial poisoner to show up when he looked over and realized -

“Your eyes are blue, but not just blue, they are indigo in this light…”

“Hmm, yes.”

“…with bits of gold…”

John grinned at him, then, and he blinked. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Staring. I don’t normally -”

John shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, then found his focus had shifted to his lips, and it was all he could do to breathe. “Good, that’s uhm, hmm. Good.” He forced himself to turn towards the window again and for once was disappointed when his quarry showed up as he knew they would. “Damn. C’mon, John.”

“Right behind you.”


	2. Frustrated

He was rarely frustrated. Bored? Yes, at least twice on Mondays, and thrice on alternating Thursdays, but _frustrated?_ Not usually. He glared over at John, who was already so accustomed to be glowered at, that he was paying him no mind.

Perhaps…

“Nope.” 

It was his own fault, he supposed. He knew, of course he knew, he had had that tickle in his throat for a couple of days, was already a bit hoarse before John had warned him not to take on that case - the one with the stake-out that lasted for -

“Twelve hours, in the rain, you’re lucky -”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. The ‘you’re lucky you only lost your voice, and that you didn’t get pneumonia’ speech… _again_. Fourteenth time in three days.

“-pneumonia. I don’t know what Greg was thinking -” John grumbled to himself, as he threw the paper down and saw the mystified look on Sherlock’s face.

“Greg. _Lestrade_?”

“Oh.” Sherlock mouthed silently, then tried puppy dog eyes, sometimes it worked, if John happened to be in the right frame of mind, and - there it was, that huff of resignation -

“Fine. Fine - yer rotten, ya know. I should go to work and leave you to suffer on your own. Yer an idiot. Go on, back to bed, I’ll make you some tea, which you will drink, and then I’ll -” John finally sighed and offered Sherlock his hand. “Come on, you, I’ll tuck you into bed, and read you some more of the le Carré…”

“Love you,” Sherlock whispered, just loud enough for John to hear him.

“Yeah, I know, love you, too, but yer still -” John sighed again as he looked up into his eyes and shook his head. “Just a couple more days, and you will be back to babbling away, I know how frustrating it is, and I do miss hearing your voice, you know.”

He grinned as Sherlock had the grace to blush a lovely shade of pink, then he pulled his phone from his pocket and cleared his throat - “Yeah, Sarah, it’s me, need to use a sick day, yes, still can’t talk, see you next week?”

John ended the call, then muttered, “The things I do for you - come on, bed.”


	3. Resigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The solar system revisited...

“Why is the solar system so important?” Sherlock asked, more resigned than aggrieved.

“Why is the solar system so important?” John repeated back. “It’s just - it’s the solar system, it’s just something everyone knows.”

“Why? What does it actually matter? I mean, honestly. I’m never going to go to another planet - there are no cases on Jupiter or Mars. You, I presume, have no intention of space travel, so why should I clog my brain, my workshop, my Mind Palace with such trivial nonsense?”

John sat in silence for a long moment, then asked, “When did you delete it?”

“When? I don’t know -”

“Sherlock?” John got up from his chair, knelt next to the couch and waited.

“Fine,” Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes at him. “The day I met you. I had to make room.”

“For me?”

“Yes, of course for you. I had to make room for all the new data, and -”

“You deleted the Solar System for me.”

Sherlock huffed again as he pulled his robe around himself and rolled away from him. “You know I loathe repeating myself, John.”

“That’s the most -”

“The most what?”

“The most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Sherlock rolled back over to face him and grumped, “I am not -”

“Yes, yes you are. You are a romantic, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Don’t let it get around.”

“It will be our secret.”


	4. Content

Sherlock lowered his bow and turned to look at John. After a few minutes of careful study asked quietly, “Are you content, John?”

“Content?”

“I mean, in general, with things? As they are?”

“Life, the universe, all that?” 

“Hmm.. no, I was thinking somewhat more on a personal - I mean, with-” Sherlock cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed.

“With you, us, you mean? Yeah, of course, anything make you think otherwise?”

“No.” Sherlock shook his head. “It’s precisely that everything at the moment seems, well, simple, easy - too easy? I’m not used to it, and I thought I’d ask, instead of try to deduce -” 

“You’re not bored or anything? I mean -”

“No. NO. I’m content, beyond - it’s the oddest sensation.”

“Being happy is a good thing, you know.”

“You are happy, then, too.”

John answered with a smile, “blissfully so,” then returned his attention to the book in his hand.

“Oh, well that’s good, isn’t it.” Sherlock nodded then turning back towards the window began to play once more as the evening sky grew dark.


	5. Busy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a really teeny bit...

“Busy?”

“Hmm?”

John knew better than to ask when he was in his ‘thinking’ pose, but couldn’t help himself this morning, there was just something - “I said, 'busy?'”

Sherlock opened one eye, then the other and smiled up at him. “What did you have in mind?”


	6. Distant

John started awake, the old nightmare, the oldest. Sherlock was still not in bed yet, some experiment - he couldn’t remember what it was, something to do with pigeons? He sighed, reached for his robe and shrugged into it, then stumbled towards the kitchen, stopping short when he saw Sherlock still intently working. He was scribbling in his journal - he had some weird shorthand - he had tried to explain it once, but it was indecipherable gibberish to his eyes. Probably due to the handwriting more than the code itself. He smiled gently at him, and whispered, “Will you, some time in the not too distant future, marry me?”

Sherlock didn't stop working, his hand kept moving, and he answered back with a nod. “Yes, John. Of course. Can I make you some tea?”


	7. Creative

There were times when Sherlock got it wrong. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was because he overthought something, or believed John might be bored, so he would get a bit more creative than necessary and chaos was usually the result.

However.

Their wedding ceremony, such as it was, was very simple, Mrs Hudson and Molly served as witnesses, they exchanged rings, signed the book, and it was over in just a few minutes. As they walked out into the last light of a rare sunny day, Sherlock took John’s hand in his and said quietly, “You’re very pleased with yourself.”

“Hmm. Yes. Yes, I am.” John grinned up at him, and asked, “Dinner?”

“Starving. “


	8. Despondent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very itty-bitty one.

There were mornings when John would roll over and meet Sherlock’s eyes, and without a word, he would tuck himself against his husband’s chest and go back to sleep. It wasn’t a nightmare, or the blues, exactly, just a day when they both needed to be absent from the world, together.


	9. Silent

A silent flat wasn’t necessarily a worry in itself; it was the quality of it, the depth and heaviness of it hit him as he opened his eyes and blinked at the light streaming through the window. He was cold. Cold in May. John was - right. John was visiting Harry. He wasn’t even sure it was May any longer. He wrapped his sheet around himself and eventually found himself in the kitchen. He groaned as his phone buzzed from somewhere in the depths of his coat which was actually hung up properly. He didn’t remember doing that -

Morning - J

Is it? - S

It’s 11;56 in the morning, so technically, yes, still morning. - J

DId you look outside? - J

Why would I look outside? - S

Just go look. I’ll be back tomorrow. - J

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but pulled the sheet tighter around himself, shuffled to the window, and rubbed his eyes.

Snow? IN MAY? - S

Yep. Deduce that, love. xoxox - J

The world is insane. - S

Yep. Love you. - J


	10. Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of backstory for the creaky step...

No one knows why that one step always creaked. As far as Mrs. Hudson knew, it had always been that loud. She had tried to have some workers in and take care of it, but was told no one would work in her building.

“What do you mean, no one will work in my building?”

“Nothin’ personal, mum, I’m sure - it’s just - the boys - I mean - it’s not just us.”

Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms at him and gave him her best stare down, to no avail.

“Ev’ryone thinks this place has a curse on it,” he finally admitted.

“A curse?”

“Don’t ask me, mum, it’s just - no one’s worked on this here place, this block - since the Ripper’s time.”

“Oh my. That is something isn’t it? Very well. I apologise for wasting your valuable time. Do you have time for tea?”

He could smell the scones, and he was hungry, but he held firm and shook his head. “Just had my elevenses, thank you just the same.” He then nodded in her direction and left as quickly as humanly possible.


	11. Apathetic

It was never a question of apathy, that led outsiders to believe he didn’t have feelings, it was, rather, an overawareness of what emotions brought about. Emotions led to all sorts of things - some he was, well, if not grateful for, exactly, he appreciated the results. The puzzles, without the puzzles, he would be left to consider those foibles, which led to thinking and rethinking each relationship that had ended in disaster, until the day John bumped into his life.

He looked over at him, typing away, in that slow, but certain way he had, and wondered how he managed to keep going. Some days, just existing, breathing in and out was almost too much.

“It’s what we have to do, isn’t it?” John mumbled without looking up from his screen. “If we spent all of our time trying to fix things that can’t be fixed, or worry about what might happen tomorrow, none of us would bother getting out of bed. There, finished.”

He finally turned to glance over at Sherlock, to find him smiling at him. “What?”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, love you, too.” John narrowed his eyes at him for a brief moment, then stretched and slowly got to his feet. “Bed?”

Sherlock nodded, and let out a sigh of relief as John walked over to the couch, and without another word, helped him to his feet, and guided him back to bed.


	12. Unfocused

He’d had his routines, from early in childhood. It was a way to control some small part of his life, when most of it was wildly not under control, Studying helped - if he happened to be busy, he was left alone, mostly. Leaving for Uni helped - the routines went with him, everything had to be just so, not OCD, exactly, he just liked order. In med school, and then the military, order was prized above all else, or at least the perception of order - and then he met Sherlock.

From the very first moment, he knocked him neatly out of his comfort zone. He was like a spinning top suddenly gone wobbly, or maybe it was that he’d been wobbly all that time before, and finally with one glance, he was set right again?

He opened his eyes, and blinked, a bit unfocused, at the man next to him, who was tapping away at his laptop.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Sherlock looked over at him and stopped what he was doing, then placed the laptop on the bedside table, and turned his gaze on him, as if seeing him again for the first time. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“You didn’t, what time is it?”

“Too early,” he whispered, as he snuggled down close and draped around him. “Try to go back to sleep.”


	13. Dreary

Honestly.

Sherlock glared around the crime scene, then at a cough from Lestrade, turned and met the question in his eyes.

“He’s fine. We’re fine. It’s this damn dreary weather,” he shrugged. “His shoulder acts up, and then the day is -” He bit his lip, then dropped to his knees to examine the victim’s nails. He needed to focus, he had shared more than he intended, their public persona was one thing, but actually showing how he cared about John on a crime scene?

“Gimme?”

“Looks random, was meant to look random… but the ring is gone, they took time to take it - took them a while, it’s personal, just find out who was in her life, you’ll find who did it.”

“Go on home, it’s about to pour again. Next time, just let me know you’ve got something else on.”

“Lestrade -”

“No. Seriously. No is a complete sentence, you know, no explanations needed - tell him I hope he feels better soon, hmm? Miss beating him at darts.”

Sherlock got to his feet and nodded his thanks, then turned on his heel and made his way back to Baker Street, where he found John sound asleep on the couch. Blast. “John.”

“Hmmphhhh?”

“You can’t sleep on the couch.”

“Case?”

“Don’t worry about the case.”

“Sherlock.”

“It was a four at the most… c’mon, time for bed.”


	14. Innovative

Yes, one could call him a scientist, he liked theorizing, then taking the time to prove himself right or wrong, but it wasn’t to invent something, or bring something new to light, unless it was to do with a solution to the case he was working on. Mostly, he liked tinkering, or as John would call it, making a mess, for the mess’s sake.

There were nights when neither of them could sleep, and John would lean against his chest and run his fingers over Sherlock’s right hand, feeling the history of all the tinkering, of the work that resided in his scars. Sherlock would clear his throat and quietly retell the stories, until he could tell by his breathing that he had drifted off. Occasionally, when his mind was still caught up in a puzzle, he would quietly slip from the bed, and head to the kitchen to work out whatever it was. But most nights, like this one, he would close his eyes and hold onto John just a little tighter, and count the silver strands in his lover’s hair until he too, finally fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Cheerful?

No, that’s the not exactly the word most people would use to describe Sherlock, John considered as he watched him grumble at the morning paper, then toss it aside with some force. But then he glanced up and as he noticed him his eyes sparkled, and a smile softened his sharp angles.

“John. There is an article on page 4 you might find of interest…” He cheerfully launched into a review of not only the article, but of its author, and as John settled into his chair across from him, his mood that had been on the darker side as of late, lightened immeasurably.


	16. Alone

Sherlock bolted upright in bed, then looked around, finally settling his gaze on John, somehow still asleep. He wasn’t alone. Hadn’t been alone for years now, and yet, there were still moments when he could recall all too easily, those days when he felt he was too different, too whatever to be loved.

He sighed as John’s hand rested on his back reminding him when and where he was, then settled back against his pillow as John spooned around him. 

_Not alone._


	17. Smart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tiny bit of angst...

There was never any question about Sherlock’s intelligence, of course, by his own admission, there were certain things and subjects he couldn’t be arsed to consider or remember, but there were times when his street smarts took John by surprise.

He sometimes wondered how someone, well, of his class, of his place in society could blend into a crowd, know just which alleyways were safe, while others were to be avoided - of course he had a past, they both did, and while there were those quiet moments when he was tempted to ask - he never did. He knew if he had, Sherlock would have answered him, and honestly, but there were moments when he saw ghosts in his eyes, ghosts that were better left to the past. As he well knew, Sherlock had seen them in his own eyes, the first day they had met, and let them rest in peace, or at least remain well buried.


	18. Protective

He wasn’t exactly sure why he brought the protective side out in him, he hadn’t even known that side existed within him before he met John, but there it was. Perhaps it was because he was truly the first friend he’d ever had, and friends, well, they protected each other, didn’t they? 

He shook his head as he watched John’s eyes close and the book fell from his fingers.

“John.”

“Huh?” He sat up, startled. “What is it?” 

“I just thought you’d be more comfortable sleeping in bed - your shoulder -”

“Right. Uhm, yeah.” He got up and stretched, then nodded. “I don’t suppose - if you aren’t busy -”

Sherlock switched off his laptop and walked over to him. “Never too busy for you.”


	19. Enthusiastic

He could still remember a time when it was all he could do to make himself get up in the morning, and pretend to function as a human being. Even now, there were days before he opened his eyes, still at the edge of sleep, when he just wanted to not move, just hover there - but then gentle hands and a roughly whispered, “Morning, John,” would make him abandon all notions of idleness. If nothing else, Sherlock had reminded him of the joy he was capable of, and it seemed rather shoddy not to approach the new day with as much enthusiasm as he could muster - especially when Sherlock did that - “Damn...”


	20. Grey

Another grey day. Usually he didn’t spare a thought for the weather or the fog, unless it had something to do with a case, but there hadn’t been a case, not a good one, in weeks, now. He stood at the window, and watched how everything, even the bright red umbrella that passed by seemed so dull -

He started as John’s arms wrapped around him from behind, then he settled back and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes again, and the world seemed just a bit brighter, trick of the light he supposed.

“Tea?”

“In a minute?”


	21. Delicious

Delicious.

No other word for it, really, John thought - the look of surprise on his face when he finally understood. They had known each other, not even a couple days, not even a full day, really, but as Sherlock spotted him, then knew from how he stood, or looked away, whatever it was - and he knew, well everything, of course he did, how could he not?

“You alright?”

“Yes, yes, of course I am.” He wanted to ask why, just to confirm his theory, to be completely sure of himself, but instead, he slipped his hand into John’s - he could feel one of them was trembling maybe both of them were? He didn’t care who could see what had happened, he was sure it had happened long before that moment, and though he didn’t believe in past lives - hadn’t believed, at any rate, he knew - he knew they had been there before. “Home?”

Sherlock nodded, and tightened his grip on his hand as they started walking back to Baker Street, ignoring the chaos that swirled around them.


	22. Emotional

“It’s just a concussion.”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was.”

“John.” Sherlock reached up and cradling John’s face in his hand, whispered, “Not your fault.” He sighed as John turned away so he wouldn’t see the emotions in his face. “Look at me.”

“I uhm, need to see to the tea.”

“John. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It will just take a bit of time before I am. Be right back.”


	23. Weary

He looked over and saw weary eyes smile back at him. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Can’t remember, think the word ended in ‘day.’”

He laughed before he remembered it hurt to laugh, and Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, then mumbled, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be here.”

“I know.”


	24. Sad

“Humanity is in a sad state…” John started as he tossed the morning paper to the floor, then stopped as he looked up to meet Sherlock’s gaze.

“Humanity has always been at war with itself, you have seen it yourself, not just in metaphorical terms. Perhaps now, or one day, we can find some way to, I don’t know, understand one another better - what?”

John shook his head then moved until he knelt carefully at Sherlock’s feet. “That you of all people should have hope that we can become better -”

“If we don’t have hope for that, John, what is the point? What is the work for? I could have - I don’t know, gone into research, stayed in my ivory tower, but I choose, I chose a long time ago to be with the masses - if I hadn’t -“ He reached down and brushed the silver strands from John’s eyes, then cleared his throat, and tried to speak, but words didn’t come.

“We would have found a way -” John whispered. “It’s still early, back to bed?”

“Hmm.”


	25. Curious

There were times when Sherlock was curious what John had seen in him when no one else had ever truly bothered before. He had never posed the question, because he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know the answer until one morning when it slipped out, quite by accident.

John lowered the paper, and stared at his back.

“What?”

Sherlock spun on his heel and realized the query had been spoken aloud. “You heard me. You know I don’t like to repeat myself, John.” He was about to leave the room until John let the paper fall to the floor as he got to his feet, then moved to stand in front of him.

“You don’t know why I stay, here, with you.”

“I - assume by now it is from habit and emotional attachment, more than anything, but that first day - I didn’t question it then, you had reasons, practical reasons, and -”

John reached out with both hands and taking Sherlock’s in his, squeezed them lightly. “You winked at me. When you were on your way out the door that day, you winked at me, and even then, I knew you were making an effort - outside of your comfort zone, and I wanted to know - I wanted to know you, more than I ever wanted anything before. And you didn’t disappoint. I’m still learning who you are, even now.” He looked down at their joined hands, and matching bands, then up into Sherlock’s eyes and nodded. “Still remarkable, always will be, saw it that first moment when I saw you standing there. Fairly took my breath away - there will never be a day that I don’t find you so.”


	26. Cloudy

“Smells like rain.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock sent a glance skyward and closed his eyes. “Ten minutes.”

“You’re guessing.”

“Of course I’m guessing,” Sherlock muttered. John waited for the inevitable monologue regarding meteorologists, not quite a rant - but close enough, when he felt the first raindrops fall. “Damn.”

“Just nine and a half minutes off,” John laughed, then went silent as Sherlock moved to stand in front of him, and pulled him into a kiss.

“What -” 

“Just wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“Fuss?”

“Kissing in the rain - now, let’s get home before -”

John stopped his next words with a kiss of his own, and took some satisfaction in the contented sigh that escaped from Sherlock’s lips, before he grabbed his hand and dragged him into a cab that pulled up next to them at that moment.


	27. Aromatic

Sherlock knocked the Sussex mud from his boots before stepping out of them, then closed his eyes and breathed in the scents of home. So different from Baker Street - from London, and yet as John walked out of the kitchen, a bit of bread flour on his nose, then settled his arms around him, the scents he cared about most in the world were still very present.


	28. Doubtful

They had been together so long now that they rarely had to speak to know what the other was thinking, but Sherlock could still recall a time when he would wake up surprised to feel John curled around him, his breath against his back.

“Twenty years,” John rumbled, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder, as the birds were announcing the beginning of a new day.

“That long.”

“Hmmm.”

“Do you ever -” he cringed as he heard the slightest bit of doubt in his voice.

“No, I don’t regret a single moment, I just wish -” 

Sherlock rolled in his arms as John’s words faded. “You wish -”

“I was going to say, ‘I wish we had met sooner’ and then I realized we probably wouldn’t be here now, sometimes the universe plays out as it should. We are perfect as we are -”

Sherlock nodded, then closed his eyes as John settled against his chest and drifted off back to sleep.


	29. Concerned

“Turn it off,” Sherlock whispered at John’s ear.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He pushed the power button on John’s laptop, then closed it. “There. Off. Time for bed. Tomorrow is - it’s already tomorrow, and we will find a way to help, later. But you need to sleep, we need to sleep.” He helped John out of the chair he had been in for the last eight hours, and led him up the stairs to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t look away from what is happening in this country, in my country. If you can, donate to those organizations in MN and other cities that are legit. Donate to the fund for George Floyd’s family, please do not share photos of protesters’ faces if you can help it, do not share the video of his death, please. We are all in pain from so many sources right now, find a way to put some light into the world without adding to the darkness; these are not unprecedented times - this is simply history repeating itself.


	30. Cerulean

“Stop. Don’t move.”

“What?”

“Your eyes - they’re doing that thing -”

“What thing?”

“Sometimes, your eyes - well, one moment they are green-ish gold, and then, like now, they went cerulean- what were you thinking about? The case?”

Sherlock snorted and shook his head. “No, John, I wasn’t thinking about the case, I solved that an hour ago - it was the uncle - inheritance squabble, dull. I was thinking of you, couldn’t you tell?”


	31. Perseverant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the city where I live, thousands gathered for a protest in the afternoon, by the evening of May 30, a curfew was called by the mayor. Be safe everyone, and if you pray, pray, if you have a good thought for those in the U.S, please send it.

“Nope. Not today.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and glared at him. “I can’t watch anymore.”

“Don’t disappear into your Mind Palace today. Talk to me.”

“What is it you want me to say?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, just don’t leave me alone today.”

“Sorry. Monty Python or Bond?”

“How about we just go back to bed and not move for a week?”

Sherlock got up from his chair and offered John his hand. “Bed it is.”


End file.
